11 Hanging by a Hair (27 page)

Marla trembled at this latest crisis as she strode to her station. She hoped Dara was just asleep and would wake up later, none the worse for wear.

Nicole was busy teasing an older lady’s hair in the next chair. Marla approached, crooking her index finger. “Listen, I need you to watch the front desk for a few minutes. Luis is doing something for me in the back. We have a situation.”

Marla leaned over to whisper in her ear. The stylist’s eyes widened at her news.

“No way. You’d better make that call, girlfriend.”

Marla nodded, already half out of the salon. Once again on the front sidewalk, she called Dalton on speed-dial.

“Call the paramedics,” he said. “I’m on my way. Stay put until I get there.”

“Dalton, come around through the back door, okay? I don’t want to cause a commotion in the salon.” She gave the same instructions to the dispatcher.

They arrived within fifteen minutes. Marla didn’t see the guy she had in mind for Nicole, but she recognized one of the other team members.

“Brett, isn’t it? I think Dara ingested something that knocked her out.”

She stood back while they brought in their equipment to assess Dara’s vital signs. Luis, relieved of his duty, scampered back to his post.

Dalton pulled up in his sedan behind the rescue truck. Catching sight of him made Marla yearn to run into his arms. Quickly filling him in on what she knew, she sagged against a wall. This was one instance where she was glad to let her husband take charge.

Several hours passed before she could go home. She was clearing away the dinner dishes while Dalton lingered over a glass of wine at the kitchen table. Brianna had gone to her room to talk on the phone with friends.

“Those cupcakes were meant for you,” Dalton said, regarding her with a hooded expression. He’d changed into jeans and a polo shirt that stretched across his broad chest.

“For all of us,” Marla said, gesturing with a dish towel in hand. “I’m glad Dara will be all right.” The stylist would eventually wake up, according to hospital personnel. Meanwhile, Dalton had sent the cupcakes to the lab for analysis.

“You’re sure Luis had never met the kid before who delivered the box?”

“Nope. Someone must have paid the boy.” Marla stood by the sink, rinsing the plates and loading them into the dishwasher.

“Obviously you’ve ticked someone off. First the incident by the garage, and now this.”

“Yes, but my getting hit on the head next door happened because I surprised an intruder.”

“An intruder looking for what? We’d already combed the place.”

“I don’t know. Maybe your team overlooked something significant. Have you gone around to the backyard lately to see if any new holes have been dug in Alan’s lawn?”

“Why would I do that?” Dalton glanced down at Lucky who nudged his ankle.

“Herb Poltice could be snooping around, hoping to discover more ancestral bones. Did you find any connections between Alan and Cherry’s deaths?”

Dalton swirled the remaining dregs in his wine glass. “We’re still working on it. I can’t help wondering what the intent was in giving you those cupcakes. To knock us all out? And then what?”

“I think I was meant to eat one before leaving work so I’d fall asleep at the wheel.”

“Potentially causing an accident? You might not have been hurt, though. So it appears this incident is merely a warning.”

“Not necessarily. Look at Dara who ate four of them and is out cold. What if I’d eaten more? In a higher dose, it could lead to respiratory depression.”

“I don’t believe the drug is that strong. It causes deep sleep but isn’t lethal.”

“How reassuring. We’ll know more when you get the lab report.”

“Maybe some other evidence will show up from that box.” Dalton rose and brought her his empty glass. “By the way, I have a fence guy coming on Thursday for an estimate.”

“Oh, good. With all that’s been happening, I’d forgotten about it. I wish we had the enclosure already. It’ll be annoying to have the dogs underfoot on Passover.”

“That’s when, on Saturday night?”

“Yes, and I’m going food shopping tomorrow. My mother said she’d bring the matzo ball soup.” She reviewed her mental list of other ingredients. Roast brisket with prunes and sweet potatoes was the main meal. She’d bake some chicken breasts for those guests who didn’t eat red meat.

“How many people total are coming?”

“We’re up to eighteen including everyone’s kids.” She ran down the guest list for him.

“You’re kidding? Eighteen? This is Tuesday already, and we haven’t done anything.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll manage. Just make sure work doesn’t interfere with your being here for the entire Seder. See if Kat can take calls. Oh, what time is the fence person coming on Thursday? Luckily that’s my day to work late.”

“He’ll be here early, between eight and nine. I told him to bring samples but said we’d probably go for the white.”

“Aren’t we getting a chain link fence? I want to be able to see the shrubbery.”

“Wood fences give more privacy. I don’t want someone else looking into my yard.”

Spooks yawned and stretched upright from his favorite spot in a corner. The poodle gave Marla a forlorn look and barked. The dogs had already been out, so what did Spooks want? Did he sense her growing agitation?

She didn’t want to argue with Dalton, but the type of fencing should be a joint decision. “We’ll talk about it later. Oh, remind me to stop by the front office in the morning. I have to turn in my final report on the rummage sale. The Board wanted to know what kinds of things sold best, so we’d have an idea for next year.”

Wednesday morning on her way to work, Marla spotted Debbie Morris’s car parked by the community center. Another vehicle was there, too, so she’d quietly drop off her summary. As she approached the entrance, loud voices sounded from within the office. Its door stood partially ajar. Reluctant to intrude, Marla hung back.

“Residents will know something is wrong,” Gene Uris said, his pitch raised. “If anyone questions the expense, we’ll all take the heat. I’m not gonna let that happen.”

“We’d need an assessment anyway, Gene. This bid is too high. Don’t think for a minute that I’m not aware of your machinations. That detective who lives here suggested we get sealed bids from different contractors. You’re pushing us to accept Erik Mansfield’s company because you’ll benefit personally,” Debbie replied in a shrill tone.

“There’s nothing wrong with him giving us a show of appreciation if he wins the contract.”

“Giving you, you mean. How much money did he promise you?”

“Don’t go there, Debs, or I’ll tell people about your sister. You hear me?”

She sniffled. “At least my motives aren’t selfish.”

Marla shifted her feet, uncomfortable with eavesdropping. She should make her presence known.

Loudly clearing her throat, she rapped on the door frame.

The door swung open so suddenly, she sprang back. Gene snarled upon glimpsing her. “Oh, it’s you.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Marla breezed inside, waving her folder. “Hi, Debbie. I brought the report on the garage sale that you requested.”

Debbie cast the acting president a resentful glance. “Gene was just leaving.”

Gene glared back at her. “I hope I can count on your support, Debs. It’ll benefit us both.” And without another word to either woman, he swept out the door.

Marla handed her papers to the petite secretary. Debbie’s strawberry blond hair looked sadly in need of care. It hung in limp tendrils about her face.

“You seem upset,” Marla said in a kindly tone, hoping to inspire confidences. “It must be difficult dealing with association issues after two deaths on the Board.”

“You have no idea.” Debbie swiped at a tear trickling down her cheek. “And it doesn’t help that your husband keeps asking questions.”

“That’s his job, Debbie. How is your family?” she asked, changing tactics.

“Oh, the kids are great and Jimmy is always busy. There aren’t enough hours in the day for all of the things we have to do.”

“Tell me about it.” Marla propped a hand on her hip. “You’re a real estate agent, aren’t you? How do you manage to fit that in?”

“I’m only here three mornings a week. And I often work at my regular job on weekends, when I don’t have to be with Hannah.”

“Is that your sister? I’d heard she was ill.”

Debbie’s shoulders sagged. “She has cancer, and the treatments are so expensive. Her insurance doesn’t cover half of them.”

“It’s generous of you to contribute when you have your own family to consider.” Marla watched her reaction.

Debbie stifled a sob. “I won’t be able to help anymore if I’m arrested.” She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, Marla. I’ve done a terrible thing, and you’re the very worst person to tell. You’ll go straight to your husband.”

“Dalton is good at what he does, Debbie. Whatever you’re hiding, he might already know. He’s investigating a murder case, not the association’s bookkeeping. That
is
what we’re discussing, isn’t it?”

Debbie nodded.

“Did Cherry find out you were cooking the books so you could support your sister’s medical expenses?”

“Do you think I killed her? I didn’t . . . I never . . . Cherry was my friend!” Her eyes widened. “Your husband doesn’t think I’m the killer, does he? I’d never harm anyone, I swear!”

No, you’d just steal from our homeowner funds so we have to pay extra assessments. That hurts our wallets.
Marla sympathized with her motives but not with her actions.

“Is Gene the only person who’s onto you? Or did Cherry know? She was the treasurer, after all.” Marla scanned the office. From the disorderly piles of papers scattered around, she surmised Debbie could barely handle her volunteer position. Cherry struck her as the more organized type. Had the treasurer caught on to Debbie’s deceit?

“Cherry didn’t suspect a thing until Ron Cloakman got wise,” Debbie stated in a defiant tone. “He thought
she
was skimming the cream off the top. It’s only money that I should be paid for this job. Jimmy wouldn’t let me tap into our household account to help Hannah. What other recourse did I have?”

“Your sister has no family of her own?”

“She’s divorced with two kids. If anything happens to her, those poor children will be left without a mother. Their father has remarried, and they’ve already said they don’t want to live with him. Hannah has depleted her savings. Costly medications are her only other option, but she can’t afford it.”

“I’m so sorry.” What choice did Debbie have, indeed? Still, there had to be an alternative to stealing. “Hey, I might know something that can help. Have you heard of crowdsourcing?”

Debbie took a tissue from a box on her desk and dabbed at her eyes. “No, what’s that?”

“It’s where you ask strangers online to fund your project. I believe there are programs for healthcare needs. If you want, I can check into it for you.”

“Would you? Oh, I’d be so grateful.” Debbie’s eyes moistened. “No one else understands, and Jimmy will hate me when he realizes what I’ve done. He’s meticulously honest.”

At a loss for words as to how to respond, Marla changed the subject. “Tell me about Gene. Have you seen any correspondence between him and Erik Mansfield?”

Debbie’s nose scrunched like a rabbit’s when it sniffed a carrot. “We sent letters out to various contractors soliciting bids, but that was during Alan’s reign as president. I presented the responses at our last Board meeting.”

“And what happened? Did you guys vote?”

“It’s up to the membership to vote, but Gene pointed out how Erik’s proposal was superior to the others, even if the cost was higher. Erik’s company would throw in more extras and use better materials.”

“So Gene pushed his bid as the top choice?”

“His arguments made sense, even though I knew he had a personal interest in it.”

“How long has Gene been on the Board? Do you think he’s been getting kickbacks from other jobs we’ve panned out?”

“I couldn’t say. He’s been a director for the entire three years this community has been open. He keeps getting beat for president, though.”

“Why? How long is the incumbent allowed to stay in his role?”

“Alan’s term was coming up for renewal, but there’s no question he would have won again with his charisma.” Debbie tossed her crumpled tissue into the trash.

“People liked him so much more than Gene?” Marla found that hard to believe.

“Alan may have been pigheaded, prejudiced and prideful, but he was a stickler for the rules. People appreciated his leadership.”

I see how he followed the rules with his own interests.
“Did he examine the budget, or did he leave that entirely up to Cherry to present to the membership?”

“Alan looked it over. He wasn’t a fool. He’d taken on the window problem and aimed to make Beamis Woodhouse replace the faulty parts.”

“According to Beamis, it’s not his fault. Ethan Lindberg, the manufacturer who supplied the vinyl extrusions, is to blame. His product melts in the heat, causing the windows to leak.”

“So you’re saying this fellow Ethan supplied the vinyl frames? He sold defective parts to Beamis, whose company used them to make our windows. Then the builder bought these windows from Beamis and installed them?”

“You got it.” Marla gave a mental prayer of thanks that her house hadn’t been involved.

Debbie’s mouth cracked into a grin. “So we could sue all three of them!”

“If you want to go that route. I thought Gene hoped to avoid the court system and costly lawyers and just get other bids for replacements.”

“Of course he does, so he can get a kickback. That’s just wrong. We have a good case. Thanks, Marla. I’ll present this information to Tom Raskins. He’s standing in for vice president.”

“Do you think he’ll be fair?”

“He’s a good man.” With a pained expression, Debbie twisted her hands together. “I’ll have to turn in my resignation. I’m sorry for what I did, Marla. Please don’t think too badly of me.”

“I understand, Debbie.” In truth, Marla didn’t. The woman had faced desperate times and embezzled from her neighbors. Turning to theft usually made things worse in the long run.